


Infinity

by synvamp



Series: Fair Game Weekend 2020 [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Holidays, M/M, Prompt: Starlight, Romance, Tenderness, a hint of angst, all measurements in this fic are made of poetic licence, but no more, fairgameweekend2020, prose, tiny mention of alcoholism, writing this made me so soft it's shameful, yes an actual tent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synvamp/pseuds/synvamp
Summary: I warn you, this is far too soft and wholesome. A little romance for Fair Game Weekend 2020, Day Two: Starlight. For Alana <3Clover’s perfect date, hmmm? Camping. Walking through the lush, green forest; pitching a tent by the side of a clear mountain stream; gazing at the stars with the man I love.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fair Game Weekend 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007073
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	Infinity

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by some truly beautiful Fair Game works:
> 
> The [first chapter of Afoolforatook’s poem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700308/chapters/62401321) “One Freckled. One Scarred. One Whole.” which I just adore with all my heart (and thank you so much for your help. It was so nice to share this with you).
> 
> [This absolutely stunning art by glomes](https://twitter.com/glomestown/status/1303212167806685185?s=20) of Qrow and Clover walking in the forest which I stared at until my eyes hurt and it wasn’t long enough.
> 
> And by Chris Wehkamp saying that camping would be Clover’s idea of a perfect date <3

\---xxx---

The warm summer sunshine sifted through the forest canopy above, lighting the path with scattered pools of gold. This deep into the forest, the only sounds were insects chirping, birds singing, wind rustling the leaves and the gentle babbling of the creek. Qrow took a slow breath and committed the scene to memory. The air tasted green; full of moss and the rich growth of summer. Far under the canopy, the earth was cool beneath their feet. The stillness and quiet beauty of the scene soothed his frazzled mind and he felt truly calm for the first time in, _oh_ … so long. Too long.

They walked slowly, feet carefully picking out a path beside the creek. Clover said he wanted to follow this life-line, this silver streak of fresh water, until they found the perfect place to camp. To Qrow, the whole forest seemed perfect; every treasured green shoot, divine. Perfection wasn’t good enough for boy scout. Qrow smiled indulgently at Clover’s back. He was wearing a ridiculous fishing hat and a huge backpack; sleeveless as always. He must have felt Qrow’s gaze because he stopped and turned, one foot propped on a large rock. Even though he was a born show-off, Qrow dismissed the thought that Clover was striking a pose. The man was just ridiculously photogenic, that’s all.

“What do you think?” Clover hooked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and somehow looked even more at home; the rugged outdoorsman at peace.

“Beautiful,” Qrow said, not looking at the forest at all.

“Is it a good place to stop?”

Qrow looked around; they were in a little mossy clearing by the stream. Large rocks piled up around the water, sharp edges smoothed by nature’s endless patience. The clear water sparkled in one slanting ray of sunshine. It lilted over a scattering of glossy, dark rocks and continued ever-onwards, beckoned by the sea. The ground was soft and large trees huddled around them, giving shelter. A bright patch of blue opened up above their heads, one wispy cotton ball of a cloud wandering slowly across the sky. It was a little window which would allow them to peer out into the star-filled night.

“It’s perfect,” Qrow said.

“If we put the tent here,” Clover gestured with a gloved hand, “then the breeze will be behind us. We’ll have the water close by and the smoke from the campfire will blow downstream.”

Qrow nodded. He was used to being in the forest on spy missions. Not sleeping with his beak under his wing in a tree was more than enough luxury for him.

“Great,” Clover beamed. “I’ll put the tent up then. Would you mind getting some dry wood for the fire?”

“Can do,” Qrow grinned as Clover swung his pack off his muscled shoulder. _A whole week of just walking in the forest. A whole week of just quiet and you. It feels like a dream._ “How did you find this place, Cloves? It’s breathtaking.”

“I found the creek on a mission when I was still training. They use the forest because there’s very few Grimm about in the warmer months,” Clover said, pulling tent pegs from his pack and arranging them on the ground. “I just thought it was the most beautiful place and I always wanted to come back here with someone special.”

“Did you ever do it?” Qrow found himself asking. He regretted it right away but the little flare of jealously was hard to tamp down. A man like Clover would have been fighting off romantic offers his whole life…

“I did,” Clover looked him over carefully and stood up. He walked over and swept one arm around Qrow’s waist, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“Before me,” Qrow whispered.

He felt a hand clasp his jaw and gently tilt his chin. Clover peered into his eyes, all sincerity and loving concern, “No, _only you_. No one else was… special.”

“Yeah, Winter tells me I’m _special_ too. Not sure what to make of that one,” Qrow muttered. The jokes helped him to push back against the surge of joy and poignant longing that was like a warm hand, pressing on his chest. 

The teal eyes twinkled as a little bug flew noisily past. “Being here with you is… I feel like I’ve finally _done it_. I’ve finally found someone that I want to share this with. All the secret places, all the beauty I’ve found in my life. I wish I could wrap it up and just give it to you. _All of it._ But for now,” a casual flick of the wrist sent the little bug floating off on its merry way, “this is a good start.”

Qrow’s heart fluttered.

_He’s so sweet,_ he groaned. _I never know what to do! I can’t talk like that! He must think I’m such an unromantic jerk._

Qrow peered into those eyes, flecked with the bright green of deep water dappled with sunshine. “I’m sorry I’m such an unromantic jerk.”

Clover gave a gentle huff of laughter, “You’re perfectly romantic, Qrow. You just show it in different ways but that’s fine. I don’t want to date myself.”

“Why the hell not?” Qrow mumbled. “I guess I’ll go get the wood then,” he said, feeling the pink rising in his cheeks.

He had never blushed until he met Clover. He thought his face just didn’t work that way but now at the age of forty-three, he was just starting to learn who he was under the trauma. Behind the cracked and plastered wall of anger that had kept the world at bay.

“Not so fast,” Clover said, one hand resting on his shoulder. Qrow smiled. It was one of Clover’s little things; they couldn’t part without a kiss.

Even without having ever spoken of it, Clover understood the fear which settled deep in Qrow’s bones. An itching, incessant twitch which made him tremble. He’d had too many people leave and not come back but he didn’t want his fear to cast a shadow over their bruised bliss. So Clover made it _his_ thing. He took the weight of being the needy one, so Qrow wouldn't have to face that fear. The rule had led to some very tense kisses, in the rare times when they had quarrelled before work. It didn’t matter though, nothing did. Except that he was seen and cherished.

Qrow leaned in and closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of Clover’s lips. The slight salt and sweet of trail mix and longing filled Qrow with a quiet joy. Clover’s thumb stroked his jaw and Qrow’s fingers curled in the fabric of Clover’s shirt. He clung on because he felt he might float away.

“Alright,” Clover whispered on his lips, “ _now_ you can go.”

Qrow stumbled off in a bit of a daze. Around him, the forest was dark and still. The notes of a single skylark’s lilting song filtered down through the canopy, hopeful notes in the near-silence of life slowed down to the speed of photosynthesis. Little shoots of green pressed up through the leaf litter, a testimony to resilience and rebirth. He found a few twigs with dried leaves to use as kindling and some decent branches. He didn’t want to use Harbinger to cut firewood, so he put one end of a long branch on the ground and one end up on a rock and stomped it into pieces fit for a campfire. By the time he returned with an armful of wood, Clover was just securing the last tie lines of their cosy little green tent.

Qrow made a ring of stones to keep the fire safe and began to build a tepee of twigs, a lifetime outdoors moving his hands almost without intention. Clover sat up on a rocky outcrop by the stream, looking out over the scene. He seemed so peaceful and content. Work had been intense for both of them for so long and Qrow had pushed pretty hard for a holiday. Seeing the joy in Clover’s face was all the vindication he needed.

“Are you thinking fishing thoughts, boy scout?”

“How did you know?” Clover smiled, swinging his booted foot out over the water and into a slanting ray of gold.

“You might as well see if you can get a bite. Fish for dinner would be nice.”

“Are you sure? You won’t get bored?”

“I’ll go for another walk and see what I can find to have with the fish,” Qrow said.

“Oh, so no pressure,” Clover grinned.

“I don’t want to be mean but if it turns out you’re no good at fishing; I will laugh for a really, really long time.”

“Noted. Nice fire, by the way.”

“Thank you. Nice tent.”

“Thank you.”

They smiled at each other in the quiet, knowing that another walk would require one more kiss.

\---xxx---

Qrow found some tubers and berries. He had already picked a handful of the berries when he remembered that they tasted terrible when he wasn’t in avian form. Chuckling, he put them down for the parrots to find. It was strange to be out in the wilderness as a human. He always found being a crow easier in the wilds. The rain bounced lightly off oiled plumage and a tiny stomach was quick to fill. He toyed with the idea of going back and teasing Clover as a bird. Maybe they could have a fishing competition? Crows weren’t built to catch fish but he’d found he was pretty good at it all the same. After a minute, he dismissed the thought. It seemed wrong in this peaceful lull to compete, even in a friendly way.

By the time he got back, the slanting sunset light was molten, dripping from the leaves, thick and sweet. It gave the forest the magical quality of a fairy tale, a dreamscape, a fantasy.

Clover sat by the fire. It crackled merrily; throwing up little sparks, rising on eddies of heat. Although the evening light was still clear, the sparkling flames put Clover’s features into relief. Qrow drank in his solid jawline and the warrior’s cheekbones stark and strong.

“How did it go?” Qrow asked.

“Very well,” Clover proudly displayed a lump of shiny silver foil. “One plump fish dinner, coming right up.”

“I found these,” Qrow lifted his tubers. “Do you have any more foil? We could roast them too?”

He rinsed his foraged treasures carefully in the stream, wrapped them and then tucked the silver parcels into the glowing embers forming beneath the flames. Nestled in the fire, the fish and the tubers would roast to a char on the outside and stay moist and delicious inside. Qrow had always loved campfire food. There was something wonderful about the smoky quality, sating the hunger which came with fresh mountain air.

“And now we wait,” Clover said. He opened his arms in a gesture of welcome and Qrow went to him, settling into the warm embrace. They sat side by side watching the flames. The sun set behind the trees and all around them the noises of day died down. The insects buzzed off to their little nooks and the bird song was replaced by the chirp of crickets and the throaty croaking of happy frogs in a pool below.

Qrow leaned into Clover’s arms and fingers curled on his shoulder, tracing lazy patterns of love on his skin. The scent of fresh water and moss was accented by the wood smoke, green notes becoming dark blue with the night. Qrow found himself remembering the rare good times in the tribe. The times when it felt like family.

“Thank you for taking time off,” Qrow said, watching the flames seek a line of dry bark along a twisted branch.

“Thank you for being so patient.”

“I wasn’t patient!” Qrow laughed. He had been muttering that Clover needed a holiday for months.

“You handled this distracted workaholic like a pro and I’m grateful. Being here with you is everything I want. _More_.”

Qrow dug his fingers into Clover’s shirt and held on. He looked into the flames and the warmth kissed his cheeks.

“Me too, Cloves. Me too.”

\---xxx---

The meal was simple but delicious; flavoured by salt, smoke and sunset. As the light died down, stars lit the canopy of night one by one. Each little shimmering point represented another world so far away; another sun, another life… perhaps two lovers gazing back at them from the firmament, sharing the romance of the night. Clover pulled Qrow to his feet and over to the rock overhanging the creek. “If we stand here, we can see the stars better,” he said.

The silver of the moonlight lent its magic to the burbling stream, adding life with its glitter and spark. They stood together, hands intertwined, and looked out across the water.

Qrow breathed the cool air and leaned a little closer. He wished for the hundredth, for the thousandth time that he could tell Clover how he felt. His words never seemed big enough, dramatic enough to express the rushing, aching, all-consuming love which filled him from the tips of his toes all the way to the last feathery strand of silvered hair.

He wanted Clover to know that he would be here for him no matter what. Forever and ever until the last sunset, until the last pulse of his heart in his chest, until the whole world turned to dust and beyond.

Until the last lingering notes of this cosmic symphony faded to a hush.

“I love you,” Qrow whispered, hoping that Clover could hear in his voice all the words that he was trying _so desperately_ to say.

“I love you too,” Clover said, pulling Qrow’s hand to his lips. “I have something I wanted to ask you…”

There was something in Clover’s voice that made the air in Qrow’s lungs feel thick and heavy. He turned, startled into silence. The sweet evening green of the forest fell away. There was no open showcase of night. No smell of wood smoke scenting the air. There was only _his_ face, _his_ eyes, _his_ voice.

The man that had become… _everything._

Clover’s brow pinched slightly as nerves flickered in his gaze, then he found his voice. “The light from these stars takes a million years to get to us and on the way, it sees the whole universe. One end to the other, it travels in a straight line from a faraway sun, to you. That’s how I feel. I feel like my life has been a long, long journey across an empty void. I had direction but I had no meaning. I just raced on in a straight line, never really knowing where I was going or even why I needed to get there. And then suddenly, there’s _you_.”

The word was heavy, so full of the last three years of their life. Clover held his hand reverently, pressing it to his lips once more. He shook his head as if in disbelief, in _wonder_. “Do you know how a diamond is formed, Qrow?”

“Yeah, I had to study geology at the academy,” Qrow said automatically, his voice small and helpless.

“Another million years,” Clover said, pulling Qrow gently into his arms, “except instead of being lost in the meaningless emptiness of space, a diamond is formed by adversity. By pressure. A million years of hardship which forges the strongest and most beautiful substance in the world. To me, that’s you. You’re a jewel forged in darkness. A glittering gem hidden in the rich earth for so long, I think you forget how dazzling you are. Qrow…”

Clover stepped away and Qrow mourned his touch. Clover fumbled in his pockets and for a second, their eyes met in the clear moonlight as Clover slowly sunk to one knee.

Qrow’s breath stuttered in his chest, a little tremor of adrenaline kicking giddily around his system. He saw Clover’s smile tremble and the tiny movement was almost too eloquent. The twinge in his chest was sharp but he treasured the pain. The eyes flicked away, then back and this time they stayed. Clover’s chest rose with a steadying breath.

“Cloves…” Qrow breathed.

Clover held up a little black box and cracked the lid open, revealing a silver ring forged lovingly around one sparkling gem. “Qrow, I wanted to ask you this with a diamond by starlight because like starlight, the love I have for you will burn across the universe for a million years and it will never fade. Because like a diamond, the love I have for you will get stronger and stronger with every challenge, made ever more beautiful by adversity. I adore you and I _always will_. Please… will you marry me?”

Qrow’s whole world spun slowly to a halt and he drifted in a void cast by memory.

He was thrown into the future he had seen for himself, sitting in the gutter in Mantle. He had looked at the soft powder swirling in the breeze, those tiny unique flakes of frozen water. Beautiful only for a few fragile seconds before the heat exhausts turned them to soiled mush. That was his life. Two Vytal Festival wins, so young and hopeful and full of promise. Then Oz came and with him came lies. Lying to his friends, lying to his family. Walking away from everything he’d ever known… except Raven. And then she left too.

He had looked into that steely grey sky and seen an empty future. A world wiped clean by Salem. A world destroyed by the lies of the very man who he thought was destined to save them all. He had held his flask so tight his fingernails cut into the leather. He had nothing. Less than nothing because he couldn’t even let go. The kids needed him, even though he had nothing to offer. He told Tai he’d look out for them and he had to keep that promise. Tai was all he had, more a memory of a man than the man himself but he _needed_ that memory.

So his life was just a gutter. Dirty snow that would never be clean again. A flask that was never full enough. A heart that had embraced loneliness and longing simply to survive, because even dreaming hurt too much to bear.

As his mind wandered adrift, that future, that lonely drunken emptiness, faded. Instead, in its place, there was _him_. And just because it felt like a taboo, a wicked, reckless thing to do, Qrow imagined a wedding. At first it was hazy but then it seemed like his mind opened to the possibility. Indistinct flowers became a bouquet of red roses, held by Ruby, her eyes shining. The concept of two suits became soft, fine wool, tailored to flatter broad shoulders built for strength. The feeling of family slowly focussed into upturned faces looking at him with warmth and happiness. Clover’s hands clasped over his. Clover’s cheeks wet with joyful tears, as they promised to be as one, forever.

The joy fluttered, like a weak flame in his chest. He felt the hope draining away, familiar doubt and anguish creeping in but this time, he fought back.

_NO._

_This is my future now and I’m going to take it. I’m going to be clean again._

_I’m someone’s diamond now._

“Qrow…?” Clover asked softly, “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” Qrow said softly, distilling his heart into one word.

“Yes, you’re ok?” Clover asked, the little waver in his voice bringing Qrow back to the moment. Back to _him_.

“ _Yes_ , I want to marry you. I want it _so much_.”

Qrow’s breath was shaky but he held up his hand. Clover grasped it lightly, as gently as if it were a baby bird, slipping the ring onto Qrow’s finger. Qrow held up his hand and turned it slowly, marvelling at the way the diamond caught the starlight, refracting the light from a million years away deep into the heart of a stone which had been resting in darkness for just as long.

Waiting.

Dreaming.

Aching for the light.

He looked up into those eyes, those pools of deep water, lit by hints of brightness as warm as summer sun.

He closed his eyes against the sight as the turbulence in his chest boiled and threatened to spill in a waterfall of salt down his cheeks. He felt strong arms wrap around him and the heat of Clover’s chest filled him with comfort.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” Clover soothed, his hands running softly through Qrow’s hair, “we’ve got all the time you need.”

\---xxx---


End file.
